Chapter 2

Lately, Vivian had been living in our den—what was once a private sanctuary for two now reeked of her smell. She claimed it was for "pack business efficiency", supposed to last a week at most. But then her territory got ravaged by rogues, "forcing" her to temporarily occupy our guest wing.

Gavin approved it before I could bare my fangs in protest. "The Brookers have hunted beside our bloodline for generations," he said, like that magically made her presence acceptable.

Now she held court in our great hall like some proclaimed Luna—hosting alliance dinners where betas from neighboring packs bowed to her, not me. Our mating bond was never publicly announced, so most assumed the golden-furred socialite was the real Mrs. Clarke.

Tonight, I caught them in the war room, heads bent over a territory map. "Rebecca!" Her fangy smile made my hackles rise. "We're designing my new howling gallery. You must contribute!"

“I have lab reports to grade,” I said, clutching my nightgown. The mating dissolution was official now. Whatever Gavin did. Whoever he was with. It was none of my business.

Vivian laughed. "Still hiding behind your musty human tomes? Gavin used to hunt fresh rabbits for me when my fangs were too small to tear flesh—isn't that right, Alpha?"

Gavin chuckled lightly. “You always did need help with your kills.” He glanced at me quickly, watching for my reaction.

I kept my expression empty, looking down. How sweet—their childhood friendship was still so strong after all this time. Meanwhile, I'd just keep waiting until I could finally leave this moving reunion.

By midnight, I was reviewing lab data when Gavin entered our mating chamber. The scent of wolfsbane whiskey and Vivian's jasmine musk clung to his pelt as he sank onto the furs beside me.

“Still working?” His claws raked lightly down my shoulder.

My spine locked, but when his palm pressed against my shoulder blades, my body curved into him like a lone wolf finally catching its pack's scent.

Pathetic, hissed the last shred of my pride. But four winters of empty dens had left me starving for Gavin’s touch that didn't feel like pity—even if his touch would never stay.

His muzzle scraped my throat as his claws split the moon-silk ties of my nightgown—

—until my stomach turned violently.

“Rebecca?” Gavin went still when I suddenly covered my mouth.

The queasy feeling disappeared as fast as it hit me. “Just...ate something odd at the lab today,” I offered. The birth control pills I took regularly made pregnancy impossible, but my stomach seemed to rebel at the thought of Vivian's jasmine stench soaking the den while Gavin touched me.

A thunderous crash shook the ancestral beams below.

"Alpha?" Vivian's voice rippled up. "I scent blood—an intruder!"

Gavin tensed, his wolf senses alert. Duty came.

He was off the furs before my next breath, snatching the obsidian blade from its altar. "Howl if it breaches the door," he growled, already a shadow melting into the stairwell's gloom.

It was nothing—just a clanswoman fumbling a ritual chalice. But when Gavin finally returned, he went straight to the cleansing pool without meeting my eyes. I held my breath in the still-dark, pretended to be asleep.

The next morning, I nearly spilled my moonberry tonic when I found Gavin pawing through my research institute application forms—the ones I’d stupidly left on the sacrificial stone counter.

“Biomedical engineering?” He held up the application to the Swiss institute, his ears flicking in predatory curiosity. "Since when do you court foreign dens?"

I bared my throat in false submission, a defensive wolf gesture. "A pack-sister asked me to carry these for her."

Gavin turned a page, scanning the details. “Zurich's eternal blizzards would freeze your southern blood.”

Of course he'd forgotten. Two winters past, I'd led him to a snow-locked howling tower, just to see his fur dusted white like the stories of the Frostborn wolves. He'd spent the hours studying the treaty scrolls.

I didn't respond. Just look at him coldly.

He slammed his goblet down, amber eyes flaring with Alpha command. "You need no foreign den. I could name you Head Researcher of Ironpelt by nightfall."

I remained silent, resolved to earn the recognition and achievements I seek through my own efforts—yet his apparent disbelief in my capacity to attain these independently cuts deeper than words.

“Morning, darlings!” She breezed in, her moonweave robe fluttering like a victory banner as she claimed the arm of Gavin's alpha-throne. "Alpha, the law-speakers demand we bless the new fighting pit accords before high sun."

Gavin rose in a ripple of muscle. "The stone chamber."

As they melted into the shadowed corridor, I yanked the forms back. My hands steady when I reached the Bond Status section.

Unmarked.